I Need You, Marky
by rentvenger
Summary: Mark is down, Mimi and Roger fought. Can the filmmaker and the musician work/fight through their problems.


Mark took a deep breath, looking to the door. Maybe someone would care? No. No. Mark highly doubted that. He was isolated from his friends. The one who would always be alone. He was the castaway, the one that was expendable. The one who was the witness. Nothing but.

One deep breath and tears were pouring from his eyes. It only took one thought to trigger them: Roger. The man that left him more than everyone else combined. Roger dropped him for April, then Mimi. Roger, Mark's best friend was never truly there for the film maker. Roger was too busy to even notice Mark beginning to sink.

Watching the door to the pair's apartment, Mark had a blank, emotionless stare. He was giving himself a pep talk in his head. A very gloomy pep talk

Mark. Stop being a hypocrite. You aren't even worth your plan, you have to keep failing. People need someone to laugh at, laugh at your defeat. You-

His pep talk was interrupted by the door opening wide, there he was Roger, Mimi's arms wrapped tightly around the blonde man's waist. He was holding a small bag over his head that the girl couldn't reach. Neither of them looked happy. Roger was angry, and Mimi seemed to be begging him for the bag.

Mark took the message, slinking to his room, to be invisible. Invisible, Mark Cohen's natural state. Isolation.

The dancer and musician's argument seemed to last for hours, at least until dark. That's when Roger kicked her out, keeping the bag in his pocket.

Didn't Mimi understand, bringing that wretched bag here, that Roger was in danger of relapse? Mark understood, the man with reddish, puffy eyes walked out of his tiny bedroom, his arms over his chest, not in dominance but in self protection. "Give me the bag." He mumbled, barely audible.

However, the moody blonde heard him. He quickly tossed his friend the bag, he knew the dangers.

Feeling the powder under his fingers, but still through plastic, Mark wondered what it could hurt. He was broken anyways.

Roger caught a glance of Mark's eyes and tearstained cheeks, along with the look of thought on the other blonde's face, "Don't try it..." He said, his voice clear, and warning. He knew exactly what the film maker was pondering, and a small lump of panic was forming in his chest, though he didn't show it.

Mark looked up from the snowy white bag in his fingers, registering his friend's words. How could he tell? "I-I..." He stammered, having no words in defense.

"Why would you even think about that?" Roger asked, almost sounding hurt. His friend saw what it had done to him, what it had ruined in his life, how hard it was to stop. Why would Mark want that? Just why?

"I have no... No worth," Mark dared to admit, knowing how stupid he must have sounded to the man who had been through this all.

"No," Roger said simply. "You have worth, you just choose not to find it. You hide, not only from Collins, Angel, me and everyone," he said, deciding to stop his list before hurting Mark, "You hide from yourself."

Roger was right, Mark looked to his feet, his face slightly paling. "I-I am not good enough," the blonde muttered, taking off his glasses, and playing with the stems. "I could barely finish a film."

"But you did!" Roger sighed in frustration, "You did finish your film, and it was amazing!" He was protesting now, but to who? A man who wasn't ready to listen. A man who didn't want to accept how amazing he was. A man who didn't know how to live his life, he should take it, he had more life left than Roger did. Roger saw Mark as a man who didn't know how much he loved him.

Mark fell silent. Again, Roger was pointing out the fact that Mark was being ridiculous... And he was right. Sheepishly, the filmmaker looked up, "I'm sorry." He wanted to end this fight. He couldn't stand fighting with Roger.

Roger stood up, doing something he hadn't done since they'd been on the rooftop when the guitar player had returned from Santa Fe; he wrapped Mark in a tight hug, "Don't be sorry, just I'm begging you not to use this," he said snatching he bag from Mark.

He tossed it out the window, some homeless guy would get lucky with it. But not Mark, not while Roger had a say in it. He wouldn't let his friend sink to that level, not now. No, not ever.

Mark looked at him, shocked, both him and Roger knew how expensive that powder had been for Mimi. Roger just tossed it, he tossed it for Mark. For the first time in several months, Mark felt special. He gave a small smile.

Roger couldn't help but grin, Mark's smile had the ability to make him smile. It was contagious. "See? You are so, so important." He stated, with compassion.

"Not more important then girlfriends," Mark said, sheepishly. Bros before hoes seemed to mean nothing to the former junkie. Mark was always left to the shadows.

Roger's jaw dropped, his eyes going completely void of emotion. He had forgotten his best friend, hadn't he? Roger felt his stomach fill to the brim with guilt, "Mark..." He breathed.

"No! Don't Mark me! Why should I listen to you? You avoid me for women that come and go, when I've been here the whole time! I've never left you! I've always been the one here for you, why do I mean nothing to you?" He shouted, near tears.

"Oh poor baby!" He spat, clenching his fist. "I don't see me being as important as, 'Roger wait, I have to film this' ever!" Roger mocked.

Mark was taken aback, had he done that? Avoiding Roger to film was one of the worst things he thought he could do. He went back to his quiet, small, awkward Mark. "Oh." Was all he chose to say.

"I'm sorry..." Roger muttered, looking to his friend through the corner of his eye.

That was when Mark initiated their famous hug, the same one Roger had offered him only moments earlier, "I'm sorry too..."

Roger hugged right back, tightly, as if he never wanted to let the other blonde go, "Please, don't leave me." He muttered.

"Of course not." Mark said, put off by the comment. Why would Roger care if he left? Roger was never around for him, why would be care? Mark was confused. "But why?"

"I need you, Marky." Roger muttered, placing one sloppy kiss on Mark's lips. He was moving to fast to register what he'd done. Holding the kiss for a few seconds he pulled back, waiting for the filmmaker to slap him across the face.

Mark looked at the guitar play with blue eyes, sparkling with shock. Did that really just happened? Had he just been kissed by Roger? He liked it, though. It was amazing, full of spark and excitement.

Roger was shocked at how pleasant the kiss was. Amazed how Mark's taste seemed to linger on his lips; Tea and caramel. It was delectable.

The pair just stared at each other for the longest time. Utter silence had filled the room. The crisp air filled with with a subtle. For the both time in ages both men felt happy, and at the same time. That kiss would surely not be a one time thing.


End file.
